Recollection
by Shattering Chadwick
Summary: A simple retelling of Fumito Ueda's masterpiece with added back story of the tragic couple that could have been. My first literary work posted online. Read, review, and/or criticize if you like. It's just for fun after all.
1. Chapter 1

The roiling tumultuous clouds echoed the familiar cough of thunder. Lightning scorched the horizon. For an instant the world was printed in negative to his eyes. The young man shut them, but his dreaded past screamed to him and he threw them open almost immediately.

The sour taste of diluted mint swirled in him dry mouth. Mustering what saliva he could, the young man spat the shredded remains of mint leaves to the gray soil by his feet. He peered up from his cold knees, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand, to meet the black horse that stood across from him underneath the Cliffside outcropping.

The large animal gave a low gruff blow of air from its twitching nostrils. The young man's patience with it had waned and began to suffer.

"What, you tired?" The sound of disgust was thickly evident in his voice. As if feeling his hot anger the horse twisted its head away from his scornful stare causing its silky mane to flicker to and fro over its bold neck.

The young man scratched at the back of his damp scalp, lowering his head. "Yeah, well I am too."

He looked to the lifeless bundle of blanket feet away out of his peripheral view. Several days before that heap held life, and warmth, and love. Now, like his crumbling heart, it was dead. The heels of his clammy hands met his weary eyes as he rubbed them profusely. If only he could manage some sleep, a slight sliver of rest. That, however, was beyond even impossible.

When the young man slept he screamed, and when he screamed he awoke. In those past two days he was lumbering with a pitiful three hours of sleep. Not that they were peaceful by any means.

His week upper body slumped to the stone wall. It was uneven and jabbed unmerciful fingers into his back, but he didn't care. He was already in pain. As if life wasn't at its all-time lowest, the voice of the godforsaken shaman rang ferociously in the very canals of his ears.

"Do not get too close, boy. Her fate is sealed; you're helpless to dissuade it."

The young man cringed at the words, each plunging a serrated blade deeper with every straining syllable. The old man had been right. Damn his bones, he thought. The old man had been right.

He loved the aging shaman almost more than the now lifeless girl, but he hated him the most as well. The old man had taken him in when he became a wandering refugee. He had raised him since he had been waist high and able to hold a bow steady. Due to him, the young man had been invited, without question, to join their religious and most prestigious tribe: those who protected the forbidden land, the place that lay at the ends of the world, the very place where his only existing hope may, with any prayer at all, be waiting.

Even though it had been against all laws of the land for shamans to have offspring, the old man had taken him in, raised him as his own. But he never called him 'son'. _That_ was against the rules. _That _was unheard of. It was never appropriate to refer to him as _that_. And it was that sole reason why the old man called him boy, or you, or wanderer. Yes, the young man despised the old shaman by far the most.

The young man sighed deeply, exhausting his lungs. "They'll be coming after us," he exclaimed to the silent horse. Then he chuckled. "They're probably already after us."

He allowed the vibrant, bellowing roar of steady rain flow into his rattled brain. He watched as the precipitation fell like sheets on the bending weeds, the faltering tall grass, and the ever soaked ugly brown mud. The young man realized he was cold. All tinder was wet beyond spark. The 'ancient' sword, as they called it, was an excellent tool for bringing fires to life, though it was no match for Mother Nature's furious crying.

The man that sat aching under the outcropping was wet and broken. He was as frustrated as he was drowning in loathing. The only matter that kept his head above the frigid waters of hopelessness was the hope that this _Dormin_ could bring her back.

"They can do it," he spoke full of assurance. "The Dormin can manipulate the rules of the very world to do it. Why else would old Emon be so afraid of anyone venturing there?" He made a noise in his throat to the horse to provoke an answer. The animal looked at him with its massive night black eyes.

He jerked his gaze to the cylindrical shaped blanket. "They can do it, Mono."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Act 2:**_

The sound of pleasant still air came to the young man's ears like a sudden blow. For the entirety of the night he had kept solemnly to himself, inspecting the blade of the village's ancient sword. The very blade he stole.

Even in the limited light of the raging storm the sharpened edges of the double sided weapon glistened venomously in the darkness. The prayer he was forced to remember upon induction into the tribe that guarded the forbidden land was etched finely into the base of the blade, appearing silver against black in the flashes of cold blue lightning. The young man thought longer than ever before on any subject. It was far too late to turn back. From then on he would be his own judge and executioner; and this, if need be, would be his final duty.

He would bring her back to _his _world, and that was that.

The young man was shocked, however, to find that in the frightening act of nature's might, in the explosion of more lightning, an unnatural stream of light emanated toward the mountains opposite to him, in the very direction of the forbidden land. It was odd, he knew, but nothing to ignite profound curiosity.

Later he had given his powerful black steed a handful of dried fruits, the perfect traveler's food, and lay down awaiting the slumber that would never come. That was when the rain stopped, as abruptly as it began. The lightning still soared as the thunder still bellowed, but after a tedious while, that was all. He decided to go.

Carefully inching his slender, defined arms under the girl's body, he hauled her to the back of the pitch black horse taking special care to keep her body concealed. The longer her body stayed in contact with the special preservation fluid drenched in the blanket's weavings the slower her decay would be. He readjusted the worn saddle and tugged at the reins. The steed hardly budged. With a look of quick irritation the young man dug into a satchel and withdrew several dried fruits offering them all to the horse, which gladly accepted them. They were all they had; he knew they would have to last.

They stepped into the stale gloom. Periodically the moon would strive to sneer through the passing clouds as the remnants of the storm drifted further and further away. The mint leaves he had chewed on had done little to rid the horrid aftertaste of molding bread which he'd finished in a ravenous binge.

He pulled at the reins leading the horse away from the shelter of the outcropping and ever closer to the mysterious future that awaited them. What he may find didn't frighten him, it was having no one but himself that scared him from the inside out. Indeed, loneliness was a worse thing than death.

The path which they tread was not much wider than the span of the horse' hooves, one wrong step meant the end of everything. An ending in vain attempt.

"The shaman will not have his way," he stammered. The morning breeze was a bone chilling one. Then the man peered to the helpless depths of the bleak sky. He began to remember, remember…

_The veil of clouds was the same as then. Everything seemed to mock the refugee in his trial to escape from his torn village. Trampled by merciless nomads, the women all ravaged, the men all slain, the children dispersing from their horrid homes in search of new lives. He had been no exception._

_ No more than eight years of age then he knew practically nothing of the outside world. He walked from his burning home, from his parents cadavers, on blistering petite feet. The tiny boy walked until he couldn't anymore._

_ He came to a mountain pass that had been brought down violently by a recent landslide. An unrecognizable crew worked furiously at the mass of undulating muck. The boy watched on as man after man of the ominous tribe was hauled up from the bubbling mud. A stocky man in an elegant robe perched high atop an equally graceful horse noticed the young onlooker then._

_ He unhinged from the saddle and approached the boy with a friendly out held hand. The boy would never forget how the thick wooden mask that looked like something from a hunter's wild dream of bear. But most of all, the boy would never forget what he would take on when he took hold of the man's firm damp hand._

_ "Hello there, boy, my name is Emon. What are you doing out here alone in such a place as this?"_

_ It took him a tedious while to respond. "I am alone; they're all— gone—left me."_

_ "I see… so then, I'll get something in that stomach of yours. What's your name?"_

_ "My name… I'd almost forgotten. It's—"_

A monstrous boom of thunder rang out its demanding cry. The young man raised his head in reply. The steed and the man and their peculiar 'cargo' were now stepping foot deep in dense, deep green grass in an endless plane.

They would arrive shortly now, beyond the forest waited the demon possessed land, the world within a world.

And before the group waded under the limbs of the trees the black steed drew back harshly, jerking the young man from his daze. There was something dreadfully wrong ahead. The man knew, yet he pressed on. Thus was his determination.

"Let's keep going Agro; we can make it by mid afternoon."

The two of them, though regretful, stepped cautiously past the tree line into the shadows of the unknown.


	3. Chapter 3

**Act: 3**

The drowned seeping light of the dime sized sun hailed their arrival at the beckoning monstrous wall that spanned even past the eye's limit. Agro, the fine steed coated in night trotted to a creep. The young man pulled at the reins, thumping his heels into the horse's sides but neither worked. Beyond the massive wall things were at work far more powerful than he knew of.

He stroked its mane, coaxing Agro with soothing words that eventually proved useful. Taking in a gasp of misty air, the young man tempted his steed through the narrow, beckoning division that led to the supposed 'world of the damned'. A swift current of air splashed over them chilling the man through his entire body. His hair whipped out from under the band that kept it in check and scratched at his eyes. The wind, nearly frozen, sounded like otherworldly growls as it nipped at his ears.

Every clop of hooves exploded off the walls and ricocheted to places unknown. There was a reason this land was forbidden, and other than the tales, the young man had yet to understand why.

Abruptly came the astounding view of the new world. Raptured by an ocean of brisk gray and white clouds, was a land that expanded the very eco system he had been accustomed to. The wind still howled, but was less turbulent. Even in his simple view was the sight of a vast desert that stretched its barren reaches far and wide, but beyond he could see rolling hills with titanic boulders, mountains encased in a blanketing mist. But soon enough his refreshed gaze came to lock solidly on the prodigious temple that loomed into the clouds' undersides on the far end of the bridge.

The young man gave a gentle flap of the reins which were just enough to get Agro going at a steady pace over the pale gray cobble stone. Though the hoof falls were nearly drowned out by the caressing wind inch by dragging inch the temple seemed to grow in size to nightmarish proportions.

The dirtied wanderer dared a look over the bridge. He saw what looked to be reptiles clamoring over the remains of a rock building that was now no more than rubble from age. He gave a subtle smile.

"Life…" he whispered to himself. The steed's ears flicked at his sudden expulsion of words.

His eyes lifted, attempting to see what lay beyond the canyon wall far to his left which spewed continuous strokes of wispy white clouds that slid over the mountain sides just past a darkened forest. For the first time in a long while a smile had been etched onto the wanderer's face.

"If only you could see this, Mono," he whispered, letting it melt away with the breeze.

Still marveling at the painter's paradise he let his eyes roam to the hawks that screeched high above by the moss hued walls of the temple which he could no longer see the crumbling summit of.

The group approached the heavy stone door, flat from a painstaking artisan's hand. When they came to a stop the young man prompted to step from Agro's back but before a single toe could touch the stone bridge a loud '_thoom'_ rumbled from behind the thick door. A moment later the passage began to open with a melancholy grinding of rock against rock.

Though light was abounding outdoors the waiting hall of the temple was impossible to penetrate with the naked eye. Like a void no light could venture further than a foot beyond the doorway. Blackness beckoned them, and though against his better judgment, the young man obeyed the silent call.

He slumped over the immobile figure, hidden away by a pale cloak, strewn over the steed's strong back and his lips met Agro's sensitive ear.

"Let's go," he pleaded quietly, patting at its silky mane. And with that the horse led the boy down the stairs for the first and final time.

The door rumbled to a close behind them with the wanderer watching in dim amusement. Upon exiting the swirling hall came enough light to see wait lurked below. The young man braved yet another solemn look down a steep climb. He saw a circular pool filled with undoubtedly stagnant water. Making their way downward on the ramp that hugged the tower shaped walls Agro's heavy hooves clacked more loudly than any time the wanderer could recall before.

When they reached the bottom and managed to pass under an open doorway, which appeared crafted for a giant, a jolting, freezing blast of air ran through them. Agro whinnied and the young man's heart leapt to his throat. The violent wind rushed out the far, open end of the auditorium styled hall leaving only a light whistle in its wake.

The eyes of the boy scanned the statues that stretched to the ceiling feeling an uneasiness creep over him. Eight of these idol-looking architectures rested on each side guiding him where to go. "This place reeks of decay," he stated coolly.

The massive idols followed the group with unseen eyes. Something was off and with every taken step it was gaining at their backs. In fact, he was nearly persuaded to peer over his slim shoulder.

Then came the waiting alter.

The wanderer pulled at the reins and Agro eagerly came to a halt. Sliding from horseback, the young man gently placed his hands underneath the cloak riddled bundle and continued his caring hold all the way to the alter. After lying the contents down he undid a loose tie of the fabric's folds and let the cloak fly with an elegant rise of his arm. The material escaped his grip and fluttered away to the outside world.

Eyes that captivated the sorrow of the world looked over the lifeless body of a beautiful girl whose life was evidently ended far too soon. Following a mechanical, almost instinctual urge the wanderer motioned to stroke her cold cheek with the backs of his fingers. All until Agro let loose a horrid, panicked sound.

Twirling on his sandaled heels, the boy came face to face with the terrible truth of this forsaken land where the world came to the end of its chapters. He had come face to face with the very restless feeling he'd been victim to.

Creatures, pitch black and disfigured in appearance writhed themselves out of the cool stone floor. Grimacing snaps and pops echoed from each and every one of them. There were eight, no, perhaps even ten of the abominations. As if blind they crept over the floor on their limbs, some simply jerked about, while others almost seemed to be stalking after the boy's frightful steed. There was only one thought in the back of his mind to do.

He patted away his flittering gray/black and blue cloak and wrenched a rigid hold over the handle of the ancient sword his adoptive village held so dear. With lightning ferocity he withdrew the blade letting the unnatural ominous light resonate throughout the auditorium hall as he held it level to his head.

The figures all reeled away from him, some squealed, others simply slithered to the shadows while the remainder of them all disintegrated to particles that evaporated into thin air. Sheathing the sword followed the sound of a dreadful voice. The same feelings as when that sudden wind had dashed by locked onto the young man once again. His head went from left to right and back again trying in vain to find its source.

Like the light that vibrated from the ancient sword, the voice was unnatural in nature. As if a hundred people chanted in synchronization, the voice spoke from what seemed to be the ceiling.

_Hmm?_ It first muttered. "_Thou possesses the Ancient Sword? So thou art mortal…"_

Though none could be seen, the wanderer knew now he was no longer alone.


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks for the reviews— much appreciated!!!. Though one was highly criticizing I both respect and admire the help. Thanks a bundle! I'll be keeping track of the word usage from here on out. Hope you enjoy chapter four here…_

* * *

Act 4:

The speech that rippled with hundreds of melded voices almost felt as if they were seeping from the walls, the ceiling, and his mind all at once.

The wanderer's fierce eyes cut at the very darkness of the high up crevices. He wanted to ask who was there, but he knew full well who bellowed their tone out to him. Even so, he gripped no fear.

"Are you Dormin? I was told that in this place at the end of the world--there exists a being who can control the souls of the dead."

The bone rattling sound of endless flocks of birds fluttering away burst all around him before any sort of reply came to the young man's ears.

"Thou art correct…," a delay came in for a moment before the booming words resonated again, "We are the one known as Dormin…" The voice faded out to a smooth, breeze of noise.

The youthful wanderer felt he would split apart if only from his desire to _know_ that which he didn't. But he withstood his eagerness. This 'divine' entity would need coaxing, a type of playing to their respect. He couldn't afford to lose their aid, not even by an ounce. Sucking back the anxiety tugging at his insides he turned on one foot to look over all that remained of his only one. His eyes grew a further dull shade.

"She was sacrificed for she has a cursed fate." He shut his eyes and the flashes of his past he prayed would leave him came swooping down around his psyche. Her final words, her last smile, the sword he'd stolen and the man he'd murdered. His bowed head returned its burning gaze on the black ceiling. "Please," he emphasized, "I need you to bring back her soul!"

A laugh as haunting as Satan's itself came tearing through the hall. It made the wanderer feel as if a talon-baring hand had dissected him straight through his midsection. It caused him to rub a rigid hand over a forearm. It suddenly became rather cold around him. Something was dragging the warmth from his immediate surroundings. Another degree down and he was sure the vapors of his breath would become tangible. He looked over to his steed seeing it had no reaction at all to the entity. He wondered if Agro could hear or even sense them.

"That maiden's soul?" thundered the invisible Dormin. "Souls that are once lost cannot be reclaimed... Is that not the law of mortals?"

The wanderer ran both hands through his thick, dirty red hair. This deity wanted to see him squirm. He was not a lowly serpent and wanted nothing more than to silence the awful entity. Still he waited.

"With that sword, however… it may not be impossible."

A spark of irrational intrigue made the gears of his soul come unstuck. His brilliant eyes flickered over the ever dark ceiling.

"Really?!" The excitement was dripping from his tone.

The ominous rattling came again, shaking him at his toes up to his knees.

"That is of course, if thou manage to accomplish what We askest."

There was _always_ a catch. No exceptions here. Regardless, he would tread whatever journey the foul being sent him on, no matter how perilous. It was for Mono, his other, better half. After all, there was no time to think it over.

"What do I have to do?"

The light eking in from the estranged hole in the ceiling flared to sudden life illuminating the towering carvings on either wall in a yellow hue. Each was lit up as greatly as the next, all sixteen of them.

The young man narrowed his eyes. This was the most eerie of his days, and it only continued to grow with its oddities.

"Behold the idols that stand along the wall... Thou art to destroy all of them."

The wanderer unsheathed the sword bringing it elegantly to his side ready to sheer away whatever he had to. These stone statues would be it, he thought. He took a diligent step forward. He walking was interrupted.

"But those idols cannot be destroyed by the mere hands of a mortal..." intervened Dormin.

The young man was ready to drop the blade. "Then what am I to do?" His fury grew more and more at the manipulative force.

The rumbling came back full swing. "In this land there exist colossi that are the incarnations of those idols. If thou defeat those colossi—the idols shall fall."

Colossi, wondered the boy. His conscience was overwhelmed by another. _They art_ _lumbering beasts, as great in size and strength as the mountains that wrap the boundaries of these planes. _The unknown voice almost sounded feminine as it retched its snarling tone in his brain—even his heart. Almost instantaneously the feeling of something robbing his mind relapsed and phased out.

"I understand," he answered feebly. The tip of his sword met the stone floor.

"But heed this; the price you pay may be heavy indeed," chimed Dormin once more.

The wanderer shook his head letting the lengths of his bangs sway in the damp air. "It doesn't matter," he said as he did so.

The disturbing rumble nearly cut out, and then a faint cry came from the darkness overhead. He was practically unsure if he even heard what the entity spoke.

"Very well…"

Suddenly it appeared as though the outside sunlight came flaunting in with twice the power it had before. The wanderer had to veil his eyes with a hand to keep them from squinting entirely shut.

"Raise thy sword by the light... and head to the place where the sword's light gathers... There, thou shalt find the colossi thou art to defeat."

With that being said, the eerie noise all but left the sanctity of the hall. The boy and his steed were left in the dank depths. He strutted outside to the impressive staircase that trailed down thirty feet to the bone-dry dirt floor of the valley that stretched off into the hazy day's heat. With the blade still in hand he brought it up to reflect the light as he'd been told.

A stabbing ray, an iridescent blue, shot off through the curtains of humidity far away directly ahead. It was reminiscent of the strange glow he'd witnessed when still in the mountains, yet so much more brilliant. Agro came tromping up to his side and he lowered the beautiful piece of steel.

"That way," he said to his horse, pointing with a bow of his head. "We go that way."

Concealing the weapon, the wanderer scrabbled to Agro's saddle as gracefully as he could manage. He whipped the reins and gave the horse a couple good kicks getting him off to a good run. There was no rest to be had this day, at least not for him.

Straight ahead, he thought. His head twisted over his tunic wrapped shoulder. Soon Mono, you'll be with me again.

Before he knew it they'd come to the remnants of a shattered structure. A wide set of marble steps etched directly into the steep mountainside lead to a dug out array of nooks, niches, notches and terraces that climbed all the way up to the summit above. Hardly any trace of wind met them there. The young marauder pulled the blade back from its umber containment. Enough light caught its edge to allow a finger width spray of light teem toward the crest of the mountain.

Of course, he thought. God forbid it be easy. He let himself off Agro and walked casually to a wall he believed he could scale using the firm vine entangled moss that found its home there. It looked able to support his weight. A few good tugs led him a foot off the rocky surface. He cranked his head back to his steed.

"Stay here," he commanded.

The horse snuffed a mist as if it were responding. The wanderer chuckled and ascended the wall's face with ease. When his palms met the next level he blew a sigh of relief, a much needed one. He hoisted himself up and continued along the only available path. Up another ledge, over a manmade bridge of gray stone, under an ancient fallen tree, around an old base of what looked to have been for a monument and over a breathtaking gap—the journey _to_ this creature was exhausting enough.

He came to a massive boulder's side and used his right arm to brace himself against it if only to stay upright. He needed to let his breath catch up with him. He was in shape, but the task to get him where he now was, was demanding in itself.

"Damn Dormin," he huffed.

He thought he felt the ground undulate beneath his feet. Then again, this time under his bracing hand as well. The sword came swinging out of its sheath for another go. Then he took a step forward, but none more.

A foot, hoofed and titanic, came pounding into view from around the boulder fifty paces out. The wanderer peered up to look over the rock but found him incapable of doing so. His heart thudded from his chest and a fear even tighter in its hold than it was with Dormin settled over him. The rest of the behemoth wandered into sight.

Was it a man? Was it a bull? The boy had heard and even read old tales of Minotaur's. He thought them to be fable, yet here was one, standing erect and foreboding like a god. He fell to a knee.

He was to best _this_ thing? The impossible was one thing, this was a whole other. He'd be lucky to leave there alive if it so much as spotted him. But instinctually his other foot plodded forward, then the next and the next until he stood betwixt a slew of brittle trees, leafless, lifeless, and shuddering with every taken step from the monster.

"_Point thy sword toward the colossus. Its vitals shall be revealed..._"

The words startled the young warrior. He despised the thought of his mind being invaded but respected the advice. Surely enough, as the entity had said, another ray dashed toward the beast, and the higher he brought up the sword, the more clearly the creature's vital spot became.

Its head; the place was on the brim of the thing's head. But he kept the blade upheld for too long. The colossus had made a turn on its mighty hooves. The beam of light penetrated one of its eyes.

The monster shook its head trying to free itself from the blinding light. Its pair of eyes altered from a calm blue to a vicious orange-red, the sort a setting sun emits.

Seeing the colossus free of building dust was a sight to behold in itself. The animal stood taller than any temple he'd seen prior to coming here. Dormin had been right; this thing could truly challenge a mountain. One stride of a heavy leg and it already closed the gap between them by at least thirty if not forty incredible feet.

The breath caught in the boy's throat. This was the first time he knew a slightest mistake would spell undeniable death.

The colossus, still approaching, was a mishmash of fur that resembled long dead grass with armor that seemed constructed of rubble. Even its eyes had been formed by this stone and the wanderer knew that this creature was of another world, a world long since gone.

He couldn't stop himself from gawking. Only when the sun was blotted out by the building sized club of the colossus did he snap back to his body. He'd been so preoccupied by the amazing beast he'd completely overlooked the weapon it so tightly held. But with his body and mind back as one he started with an explosion of speed past the impact point of the club.

The stone weapon slammed into the ground no more than ten feet to his back. The drab cloak that enveloped his tunic flapped out past his head and the sudden shift of the ground nearly made him topple, but, somehow, he kept his footing.

Still he ran until he could gaze up the colossus's back. Sturdy platforms crafted of the same rock as everything else on the creature jutted out from several spots. If I could get up to there I won't have to worry about falling, he thought.

Suddenly, while he was overcome with thought, the beast's huge hoof reared back at him. It clipped him in his side, enough to relieve him of the air in his lungs, and he flopped to the dirt almost losing the sword in the process. He coughed and gasped for any air. Regardless of the ensuing hurt, he clamored back to his feet.

He lunged for anything he could and grabbed hold of the lanky fur that smothered the colossus at its left ankle. A few good reaches brought him up to its mid calf. When he brought his left hand down it felt warm. With a disgusted face he gave the spot a further inspection and noticed black ooze lathering what looked to be a wound.

This thing can be hurt, he thought. Realizing this he knew this monster was not a god. If it could be hurt it could be slain, and confidence erupted inside him. In the past he was a rather good hunter. Any animal he hunted died at his hand. He was sure this breathing mountain was the same.

When he brought up his sword grappling hand he witnessed the wound almost glow the same bluish light that had come from the blade when he reflected the sun. Coincidence or not, dangerous or not, he let his instincts lead his actions.

The onyx blade disappeared into the colossus's flesh. A terrible roar splashed over the surrounding cliff sides. The wanderer had indeed hurt this giant. Still its great hooves marched, however. Of course, he thought once more, such an impressive creature wouldn't succumb from _one_ infliction. Upon thinking this he hauled the blade out, the monster's blood melding with the fine steel making it difficult to discern where blade ended and life blood began.

The weapon drove in again. A spray of the night like liquid hit him in the face and he turned it away. The same cry exploded again and the boy felt the behemoth give way under his influences. His hands held fast in its lengthy hair until he felt its fall come to an abrupt, head snapping end. His confidence spiked to another level and without even watching his balance he vaulted to its behind and started a mad dash toward the first convenient platform he could reach.

When his sandaled feet met the stone of the platform the colossus rose back to its feet. The wandered had to stay crouched just to keep where he was. In between its steps he jumped on its back and used its fur as more footholds to make his way to its head.

A rumble came from the colossus and it began jerking its torso about. It had felt him. He kept his body closely compacted to ensure little give under its mighty sways. When it stopped its efforts he resumed his determined climb. A day before he would have laughed if he'd been told he'd be scaling a living mountain. But today he would make sure he could claim he slew a mountain.

The wanderer passed its protruding haunches and up the last of its hidden spine. When he felt he could do it securely, he rose to his unsteady feet. A small flock of birds fluttered by and if not for the situation he would have laughed with pleasure. No living thing had been as impressive as this giant. If this were one of the eight wonders of the world, though, there would soon only be seven. He hadn't forgotten his goal. Though he felt guilty already, he had to fell this astounding beast.

Without further hesitation, the warrior darted to where the blade had guided only minutes before. He fell to his knees at a sigil that radiated with the ever present blue glow. The emblem felt as if it were attracting the blade to it. He answered the unheard calling.

His dominant hand brought the blade down but not soon enough. The colossus gave its head a mighty shake sending its unsuspecting rider down its fur. Its left hand rifled out and he wrangled a wad of the matted hair in it keeping him from further spills. His arm already ached but he climbed back to the colossus's broad head, back to the sigil.

This time there was no inhibiting his drive. The blade sank into its cranium with devastating effects. That familiarizing cry of downright suffering echoed off the walls and back to the wanderer's ears. Like Dormin's simple speech had, it rattled him to the core.

Another spray of the warm ooze coated both his head and tunic. He could feel it drizzling through his hair. Nonetheless he retracted the sword and managed another stab through the giant's merciless head shaking.

Another cry, more pitch black blood—more satisfaction from the young warrior.

Stab after stab of the wondrously crafted weapon met with the creature's head. And after the tenth go, the cry faded out, the emblem followed suit. Thunder bellowed from somewhere unseen below. The monster had dropped its club. Then inertia set in.

The wanderer came to his feet atop the beast's back. It was falling forward, and falling violently fast. The boy sucked in all the air he could, more out of reaction than anything, and let his feet leave the behemoth's body. It crashed down momentarily after and he landed hard on its furry back. The shock left him immobile and he went from sliding to rolling down the colossus's defeated shoulder to the waiting earth.

His head struck when his body did making tears swell in his eyes. He stayed motionless allowing his heartbeat to slow from the adrenaline rush. With a grunt he shoved himself off the ground, and after doing so, he found the ancient sword and returned it to its sheath where it belonged.

Now I just return to the temple?

His breathing remained laborious from his struggle of man and god. At least, that's how it felt to him.

The wanderer took only two steps before coming to a halt. No sound, he thought. The birds that, up till then, had been zipping around were nowhere to be seen. Even the breeze he'd been berated with since achieving the summit couldn't be heard, let alone felt. Something unnatural was unfolding.

Was it still alive? A natural, inborn thought, but no, it was beyond deceased now. Nevertheless, he let his eyes rest on his fallen opponent. And he couldn't have been more surprised.

A thick, suffocating blanket of black mist was overwhelming the form of the colossus. It even had a scent: the scent of decay. The sight was too overbearing and he took a step back. True this land was new. True the colossus was a fresh encounter for him, one like no other before it. But this, _demonic_ looking occurrence, was too much. He bolted off to head back down the mountain. Whatever was claiming the body of his adversary would not grab hold of him too.

The boy reached the trees, then the boulder. Then he couldn't run anymore. Limbs of black otherworldly substance spurt from his lower body making that impossible. It felt cold—colder than the winter's he'd come to know. Shivers took over his entire body. Then everything went black. He could feel one of the intangible tentacles whipping through his head.

The force sent him sprawling to his knees, then to his hands as well. He wanted to gag and to flee from there. His body could do none of them. He only fell, hard, to the cracked soil.

Whatever sound there was cut off. It did not waver out, it did not dwindle and eventually vanish—it cut off. His sight all but failed him long before. He was more than certain he was dead. Dormin had been right again; the price he would pay _was_ heavy. And though he knew there were fifteen more of these creatures to kill he wondered if they'd lied to him. Perhaps he only needed to topple one and sacrifice his life for Mono's. How twisted was their humor?

Nothingness, it was the sole state of everything to him now.

But in the endless abyss of this nothingness, he thought he heard a shallow breath, the shallowest of any ever taken, and he knew who it belonged to.

Mono…


End file.
